On the Fourth
by GlitterTech
Summary: With epic fireworks, Tony in a bikini, and a half-naked Britain, what more could America want on his birthday? Alfred's birthday present.


**Title**: On the Fourth

**Author:** TechnoGlitter

**Rating**: T

**Characters/Pairings**: America, Britain, absolutely everyone else, UKUS, FranSey

**Warning**: Lime, swearing, drunkenness, OOC, poor writing, I suck horribly at writing kiss scenes

**Disclaimer**: I am not Bromaruya; therefore I do not own Hetalia.

**Notes**: I had fun with their party activities, and I'm proud of writing a birthday present that ISN'T just a lemon. In case you're wonder what the hell the fireworks look like, check here http:/ www. monsterfireworks. co .uk/firework_ with out the spaces to see.

America unlocked his door, groceries in hand, and whistled a tune as he walked into his house. Since it WAS his birthday today, his boss had allowed him to slack off (even more than usual) and do whatever he wanted, then let him off work earlier than usual. America was having a pretty good day. He put the groceries on a table, and then flipped on the lights. His jaw dropped when he saw what was in his kitchen.

Because, dear readers, Britain was in his kitchen. Wearing a short black waiter's apron, cuffs, a green necktie attached to a collar… and a smile. Nothing else. Not even underwear. Not even shoes. But the smile was the most surprising.

"Oh, hello America! I see you're home early." The cheeriness in the Brit's voice was disconcerting.

"Hi Britain, what are you doing here?" America asked cautiously. Britain smiled even wider.

"I'm here to celebrate with you! Would you like something to eat?"

"Uh, no, I just ate-" America lied, not in the mood to get violently ill from food poisoning on his birthday. However, when Britain moved aside and showed America the two bags from McDonald's, the American immediately changed his tune. "Oh dude, this is awesome, I love Mickey D's! I… thought you hated fast food," he mumbled through a mouthful of fries. Britain snorted, regaining some of his normal personality.

"I only say that to rile you up. It's quite palatable when you get the right food." Grabbing America's hand, the scantily-dressed man pulled him over to the couch, and turned on the T.V. to a baseball game. As they ate, they yelled at the T.V., and occasionally threw stuff at it. America was surprised; he thought Britain didn't know shit about baseball. But if he said that out loud, Britain would most likely start ranting about how baseball originated from rounders or something, and then America would have one of his panic attacks and the whole day would be ruined. So he didn't say anything. As the blue-eyed American looked back on the day, he realized it was kind of weird. He didn't have any work to do, having pushed it all on some secretaries, so he called up a couple other countries. They were all busy, and very hurriedly hung up on him after apologizing. The day that Italy was busy working was a strange day indeed. His boss had let him off early saying that "He could have as requested." America thought that was really weird, since he hadn't asked to leave early, and no one at the office would have done it for him.

Then, there was Britain. In a sexy waiter outfit, currently yelling at the third-baseman for fumbling a perfect throw. Britain always avoided him on July 4th. If France's word was anything to go by, his former guardian spent the day drinking himself stupid and moaning about America becoming a huge jerk. He didn't smile on his former ward's independence day. Hell, he didn't smile ever unless his "magical friends" were around or France was getting beaten up. Today was very strange indeed. After America's chosen team lost 3-7, Britain turned off the T.V. and started talking to America. Just… talking. About anything. Getting into the spirit, so did America. In fact, he ranted for forty straight minutes about… something or another, he couldn't remember what it was later. Britain just smiled and listened.

"I… you… thank you," America stuttered. Britain smiled -Why was he so goddamn _smiley _today?- and laughed.

"For what? This was nothing special." A darker, lusty look crossed over his face. "You real present is in your bedroom." America gaped, but was soon stopped as two slightly chapped lips pressed against his. A tongue almost immediately started wrestling with his, hands tangling in his shirt collar. America ran his hands over Britain's chest, feeling the slight edges of muscles that could be there. Britain moaned into America's mouth, pushing his fingers through his messy hair. He pulled away and nibbled on America's ear.

"I _said_, your present is in your bedroom," he purred. He then _picked up America bridal style_, and carried him to his bedroom. He threw America onto his bed, and straddled him.

"Now America, keep quiet and enjoy this, today is all for you," Britain murmured. His voice got softer and softer until America's vision went black.

* * *

><p>And then America woke up. He moaned and held his head in his hands. "Dammit brain, why'd you have to cock-block me? Just as it was getting good!" He slumped back against his head board. Suddenly, two bright green eyes pierced the darkness around America's bed. An enchanting British voice reached out to him, pulling him in its direction and sending butterflies into his stomach.<p>

"Perhaps now is when it really gets good…"America flopped backwards, panting heavily while Britain sat above him looking all too smug.

* * *

><p>"You… are… that was amazing," America finished lamely. The man above him grinned.<p>

"Thank you, I'll have you know it took me two weeks to perfect that. You weren't too shabby yourself." America smiled weakly, cheeks red and hair sweaty.

"There's the Britain I know and love." Said man blushed and twisted his fingers together nervously.

"I thought you'd like me better if I was… cheerier I guess. You seemed to like it." America pulled him into a hug and spoke softly into his shoulder.

"I liked it because it was you, but I like the person you are right now, you don't have to change."

"So, it didn't seem like I was trying to hard?" America's face fell.

"You… were acting?"

"No! I just… didn't know what I was doing sometimes. Like when I was yelling at the telly." America cracked a grin and wrapped his arm around the Brit's shoulder, shifting him so they could sit next to each other.

"Aw, it doesn't matter what you yell, as long as you're shouting." Britain blushed, then smirked.

"Thank you, now go take a shower! I have something else for you, and no, I will not take it with you, I'm taking one in the guest bathroom. Now go!" he urged, shooing America away.

"Don't take too long!"

"Yeah right Alfred, you're more likely to take longer." He froze. His eyes flickered over to America. He suddenly had all the wind knocked out of him by a crushing hug.

"It sounds so nice when you say it."

"Th-thank you. Now go clean up!" Britain ordered. America grabbed some clothes from a drawer and blew Britain a kiss before shutting his bathroom door.

* * *

><p>When America came out forty minutes later, Britain was sitting on his bed embroidering. He tossed the fabric aside and dragged America behind him for the third time. He was pulled out the door, towed down the stairs, hauled through his kitchen, and shoved out his back door onto his patio. In his monstrously huge backyard, there were some shadowy shapes that America hadn't remembered being there before. He attributed them to swamp gas or some new bushes or something.<p>

"Why are we in my backyard, Britain-"

"You can call me Arthur. Or Artie, if you prefer," Britain mumbled, moving to stand in front of America. He took a deep breath, and addressed the beaming nation in front of him.

"A few months ago, I remembered your first 'birthday.' I remembered how bitter I felt, and how excited you were. I thought you hated me, and that you were glad to be rid of me, so I started being spiteful and vindictive so I wouldn't have to be depressed and worried. And that eventually became me. I am the person I am today because I couldn't let go of my little brother. And I realized how bad that is. So I decided that I would try to change, just for you. Just for your birthday. I realized that hate and ignorance is useless, so I decided to make it up to you. For every birthday I've skipped out on because I was too heart-broken to see you so happy. So, Alfred, happy birthday," Britain said, snapping his fingers at the end of his speech. And then his backyard was lit up, revealing the over two hundred or so people in his backyard stopping whatever they were doing to yell 'Happy Birthday America!'

* * *

><p>This was no cocktail party, I'll have you know. Being the rockin' celebration that it was, the party was not lit up with floodlights (yet), but fireworks. About a dozen dragon's eggs and crossettes went off all at once, covering the night sky with flashes of light. Manning the fireworks was an already-drunk China, sticking his tongue out and holding up a devil's horns near his chest (palm inward, because he was just that drunk). Russia was pulling all manner of alcohol out of his coat, filling up a table and a half with bottles. Well, that was where China got the drinks. Prussia was taking care of the music, pretending like he knew what to do as a DJ. Italy Veneziano, France and Japan were all cooking up a (somewhat-American) storm. The Nordics and Oceania were filling up an ungodly amount of water balloons. The South American countries were trying to convince Prussia to play anything but his "techno-Euro-trash." Everyone else was either drinking, dancing, or just plain partyin' the night away. France looked up from his cooking to shout "Nice ass, <em>Bretagne! <em>Have you been working out?" Britain blushed and turned around, the thick laces of his apron not _quite_ enough to be considered decent.

"Wow Artie, did you do this all by yourself?" America asked in awe.

"Um, yeah, most of it. France helped with writing the invitations and putting up decorations and all the tables, and Canada told me what to set up and what you'd like and such," Britain explained, rubbing the back of his head.

"How did you get everyone here? Like, freaking Pakistan and Iran are here!" America moved closer to Britain, wrapping his arms around his waist and fiddling with the apron ties. Britain slapped America's arm lightly.

"I pulled some strings-don't pull mine or I'll kill you-, used some favors, got down on my knees and begged, the normal things. It took about a month to get everyone, including the provinces and such, together." America stared.

"I can't believe you went through all that, just for me! Thank you so, so, SO much!" America squealed, hugging the Brit as tightly as he could without breaking him. He chuckled, and stroked the blue-eyed man's hair.

"What do you get for the hero that has everything?" he teased. America's eyes started to water.

"You come to my house in an apron and a smile, eat burgers and watch baseball with me, completely dominate me in the bedroom, let me call you 'Artie,' throw me the best party ever, and call me a hero. The only thing in the world I could possibly want right now is you."

Sighing good-naturedly at America's cheesiness, Britain pulled him in even closer. "But my darling Alfie, you already have me…"

* * *

><p>And so, the party continued. It was loud, it was exciting, and it lasted until well after midnight. After about an hour or so of America socializing and accepting good wishes, they had THE water balloon fight to end all water balloon fights. After the Africans won by a landslide (Seychelles celebrated by slapping France's ass and enthusiastically making out with him), they had cake.<p>

And my God, was it a huge cake. At four feet tall and three feet wide, it was a gargantuan mountain of icing, sugar, and diabetes waiting to happen. America's favorite part, however, was Tony, drunk off of Japanese celery soda of all things, in a bikini and a fruit hat popping out of the top and drunkenly shouting "Merry Independence Day, motherfuckers!" Belarus, Ukraine, and Russia made a big show out of cutting it with a throwing-knife routine, with Lithuania, Estonia, and Latvia as their respective trembling assistants. Most people had finished off their slices when someone decided to have THE cake fight to end all cake fights. Since there was about a fourth of the cake left, this fight was long, hard, and won by the Western Europeans (France celebrated by smacking Seychelles' ass and enthusiastically making out with her).

Russia, upset that only three-fourths of the alcohol were gone, demanded that everyone start drinking. They did, and drunken games of Spin the Bottle, Truth or Dare, Never Have I Ever, and mass strip poker ensued. Then, it was present time. And America almost passed out when he saw them. After regaining his wits, he ran over to the mountain of gifts, sat on the chair in the middle, and began unwrapping like crazy. Considering the fact that there were about 250 presents, everyone was really surprised when he was sitting in a pile of wrapping paper and new 'toys' in less than an hour and a half. He was 'woo-ing' like crazy, his arms above his head, and he didn't think he could be any happier. China then decided that the fireworks, which had been going off all night, needed to end with their pre-determined bang. He stumbled over to the stand and set off the last group.

And it was indeed a bang. The first was a green peony that went up with a high whistle and a huge bang. Followed by a volley of palm trees, then some dazzling pistols and peonies, then a varied assortment of showy sparkles, China looked indecently smug. As everyone marveled up at his creations, he cheered loudly and slammed a bottle into the ground. Ten minutes later, when no one thought it could get any better, the inebriated Asian pulled out an important-looking charge, and set it off.

In red, white, and blue sparks, the words "HAPPY FUCKIN' BIRTHDAY AMERICA!" were written across the sky. Accompanied by little comets surrounding the words, it was truly a spectacle. Australia shouted "Jesus, did 'e make those while 'e was drunk too?" but no one really seemed to care.

It was four in the morning on July 5th, every country in the world was covered in cake and water, and would probably have a nastily bitchy head ache in the morning, but they didn't care. Allies had been made, social ties strengthened, enemies befriended, and fun had. They were happy and comfortable, so what else could they need? World peace had been achieved, if only for a few hours, and everything was right with the world. Nothing else mattered.

_I wrote this in three hours at a lake house with a few dozen Korean people. Spendin' the fourth with people I don't know and can't communicate with, SO FUN! Well, actually, they're all very nice and friendly, I'm just not good with people. It's been pretty nice, but if I didn't have my laptop (which ridiculously close to dying), I would just be sitting here drooling and staring at the wood-veneered walls._


End file.
